The Locker Room
by DracoMaleficium
Summary: A collection of scenes and drabbles to go with my Jee/Zuko WIP, "Substitute." All ratings, including mature content.
1. When he left

**A/N**: Welcome, dear reader, to this companion piece to "Substitute", which you really ought to read first if this is to make a smidgen of sense. I was thinking of setting up such a collection eventually, only didn't expect it to happen so soon - but thanks to the lovely Anankhe, who was kind enough to prompt me with the scene below, there you go. I hope she likes it!

Here you can expect to see drabbled scenes which do not fit into the timeline of the actual fic but which I wanted to write anyway - and that may mean lots of smut, but doesn't have to. We shall see. If you have something you'd like to see set in the Substitute verse, drop me a line and I may just write it here. :)

And yes, the name of this collection is a direct reference to Amanda's "The Boiler Room." I'm referencing A:TLA canon and Jeeko fandom right and left in "Substitute", so this is only fitting.

Note on this scene: here there be mature content. Be warned and pursue it at your own discretion.

* * *

"_For a second, he wondered if, right in this moment, the boy was masturbating on the other side of [the door]. The fleeting mental image came dangerously close to stirring Jee's barely-stifled desire anew, but thankfully it didn't get a chance to blossom as Iroh promptly marched down the hall, motioning for Jee to follow." – Substitute_ chapter 7

ooOoo

The door closed and, the second it did, Zuko opened his eyes into the dark-crimson glow of his night-lamp.

He could hear voices outside, Uncle's soft explanations and Jee's deeper, lower answers, but he could barely make out words over the frantic beating of his heart and the hunger roaring in his blood.

Jee sounded so _controlled_. The bastard. How could he get his act together so quickly and behave as though nothing's happened, as though just a minute ago they weren't…

Fuck.

He could still feel it. All of it. His lips hurt from how hard Jee kissed him; they tingled with the afterfeel of the sensation now, as if puzzled to no longer have this weight pressing on them. His skin was the same – too warm, too sensitive, itching to be held and caressed, to have the strong, strong arms back over it, to have fingers slide down his spine and caress his body. The flesh memory of Jee's touches was like points of warmth, little buds of sensation springing to life, only now beginning to fade and still thrumming with the shadow of contact, still vivid with the phantom feeling of closeness.

The bedcover was a very poor substitute and Zuko kicked it away almost immediately; he didn't want any other feeling interfering with what his body remembered and was trying desperately to keep alive.

His hand closed around his straining erection as soon as the voices – talking about _him_, and then about showing something, the trophies no doubt, _typical_ – faded into the dark distance of outside. Zuko flicked the night-lamp off with his other hand, then closed his eyes, calling forth the picture from mere minutes ago – it still clung to him so bright and rich as though Jee had never left.

It hurt at first when he tried to move his hand, the darkness swimming around him, his body both strangely weightless and bearing him down. He was too hard, too sensitive. But fuck it, it didn't matter, he needed this. He tore himself out of the memory for long enough to furiously spit into his hand, then plunged right back into it, the grip on his cock hard and urgent even despite the hurt.

His breath hitching and growing louder – he snatched one of the pillows and pressed it to his mouth, biting into it to stop himself from making loud noises – he touched himself in the darkness, eyes closed, reliving every moment of the kiss with a furious intensity which sent his mind reeling. The traces of alcohol still clinging to the corners of his mind drove him on, shattering any walls he may have had, but it was Jee he was drunk with at the moment, it was the memory of him that brought Zuko close to the edge.

Jee's lips. Jee's tongue. Jee's sideburns brushing his cheek. Jee's hands sliding down his forearms, grabbing his face, tangling in his hair and pulling it, caressing his neck, kneading his back. Jee's strong, muscular thigh hot through the jeans under Zuko's crotch when he climbed into the man's lap.

Jee's hard cock rubbing against his through their pants.

The colder air of the bedroom was beginning to cling to Zuko's skin and filling his bones with a growing chill, but he didn't even notice, his body feverish and aching to be touched. He roamed over his own chest with his free hand almost automatically, his frantic imagination replacing it with Jee's, in a desperate attempt to keep those buds of hot sensation on his skin alive through the night.

He didn't last long. Already too riled up from the kissing – _actual kissing_ – earlier, his mind a tangled, hot mess of need and excitement, he only needed a couple vicious tugs to come undone with a strangled cry into the pillow and with the sound of Jee's footsteps passing his bedroom again, then stomping down the stairs, _away from him_, without stopping.

Zuko didn't remember regaining his breath, but it must have happened eventually – he only remembered collapsing bonelessly onto the bed and lying there, covered with come and too dizzy to clean himself up, breathing out into the darkness with his eyes open and staring blankly at the ceiling, his mind floating on wine and memory, the familiar weightlessness finally claiming him.

Jee's body was the last thing he saw before he collapsed into sleep.


	2. The one time lunch break was interesting

__**A/N**: Guys, this little piece of insanity has almost nothing to do with the resolution of the actual story (or maybe it does a bit, but I'm not going to get into that). It's simply a result of a very cracky conversation that you can enjoy without fear of spoilers. Treat it as a sort of possible "different-trouser-leg-of-time" scenario. Or simply as the authoress being on crack.

Zuko and Jee are already in an established relationship, Zuko's graduated and is now living with Jee, who's still working in Flowing Creek High School. Predictably, there are shenanigans. This one involves a webcam. Which should tell you all you need to know.

It's Nele's fault. *hides in a bunker*

* * *

_Online in 5. Skype_.

Jee frowned at his cell phone on the way to the teacher's lounge. Zuko must really be getting bored if he wanted to talk to Jee online for some reason instead of just phoning him. Or maybe he'd already spent most of the money on his phone account – which was a likely possibility, given the frequent and very dirty phone calls the kid had taken to harassing Jee with at odd hours when the lieutenant was working. But why did he need to talk to Jee so urgently in the first place? With Zuko, it could be anything, but knowing the Xi family's unflattering record and their firmly expressed displeasure at Zuko's current living arrangements, Jee was slowly starting to worry.

He turned on his heel and strode promptly back to the office without even pausing to think about it. He'd use the old 'lots of paperwork' excuse if anyone missed him. Zuko could be in trouble, and even if he wasn't, it really was not as if Jee had many better things to do at the moment than talking to him through a webcam.

Besides, it could just as well turn out to be something very exciting and, though Jee would never say so to Zuko's face, he could really use some excitement right about now. So far, it had been a boring, boring day.

The only potential obstacle to this plan, going by the name of Piandao, was thankfully out of the way, probably eating lunch and socializing like any normal teacher should. Which meant that not only was the office conveniently empty – and Jee locked the door to make sure it would stay that way, just in case, one never knew the things Zuko could come up with – but also that the computer which they shared between them, resting on Piandao's desk, was available.

Jee logged in to Skype and took out his sandwich and mineral water while waiting for it to load. No one said he couldn't eat while talking and he was hungry after a busy day of working, damn it. Zuko was perfectly aware it was his lunch break. He'd just have to deal with it. Looking at the screen, Jee took a generous bite and waited.

Zuko was already online – no surprise there – and it didn't take him a second to initiate the call.

"What's up?" asked Jee, munching on the sandwich.

"Are you alone?" was the first question he heard, Zuko's raspy voice additionally distorted through the internet connection but still perfectly distinguishable.

"Yes." Okay, this could be either very bad or very, very promising, which also meant bad in the long run.

"Draw the blinds."

"I'm going to do no such thing," replied Jee sternly, growing increasingly suspicious. "I'm in the school building. It's the middle of the day."

"So? Teachers can't have any privacy? Say you've got a headache. Do it. And get your headset and the webcam going."

Jee felt like arguing some more – it really wasn't a good idea to draw the blinds at school, it looked wrong and could give the students, who already had way too active imagination, weird ideas – but in the end he did as Zuko ordered, grumbling under his breath about bossy brats who thought they could have him at their every beck and call.

He was spoiling an already spoiled kid. It was his own fault.

But really, Zuko was impossible to say no to, especially when he sounded so… urgent. Like right now.

Jee was _curious_.

"Okay, I've barricaded myself in. Satisfied?" he murmured into the microphone of the headset once he was seated by Piandao's desk again and silently praying to anyone who would listen that his colleague would not walk in on him now.

In lieu of a response, he got the blinking of a webcam screen flickering to life.

"Will you tell me what's going on? Are you all right?" Asked Jee when he saw Zuko's face.

For a moment, the kid looked puzzled. "Sure," he shrugged. "Why wouldn't I be? Just bored."

"And you ordered me to barricade myself in my own office because you're bored," repeated Jee hollowly, taking a sip from his water bottle. "Right. Go play a video game or something, I have work to do – "

"Wait," Zuko smiled at him. And it was that smile, crooked and mischievous and positively impish in every sense of the word, that stopped Jee from breaking the connection. Zuko only smiled like that when he had something very dirty on his mind. His next words only confirmed what Jee was already sure of: "I've got a plan. Just… Sit back. And watch."

Well. Whatever it was, it couldn't possibly be worse than the most recent stunt Zuko pulled, wanking over the phone during Jee's fifth period class…

"You must promise me not to laugh. You'll spoil everything if you laugh," ordered Zuko, leaning into the webcam so that his face became three times larger.

He seemed – giddy.

Okay, Jee was _really_ curious now.

"I promise I won't laugh at you," he said solemnly. "Now what the hell is it?"

"Something I saw in a movie. Now shut up. We don't have much time."

Jee nodded, suddenly experiencing a brief feeling of oddness – normally it was him ordering Zuko to hurry up and reminding him that such a thing as time existed. The kid was being uncharacteristically responsible.

The man watched Zuko scramble back a bit and then he realized the kid was calling him from his – their – bedroom, the laptop resting on the bed by the pillows. For a moment, Zuko disappeared from the webcam's field of vision, and when he did come back to stand at the foot of the bed, Jee was momentarily startled by the sound of music.

What the…

The song was familiar. He must have heard it a gazillion times on the radio. But not this version; not with the languid, slow rhythm, with a man's voice instead of a woman's doing sensuous, throaty vocalizing, to a beat that was reminiscent of smoke-filled clubs and a primal kind of sexuality.

"Can you see me all right?" asked Zuko in a low voice.

Jee nodded. A hazy guess as to where this was headed was already forming itself in his mind, making his throat go very dry all of a sudden.

"Good." The kid stood in front of the webcam for a moment with his eyes closed, tense all over as though gearing himself up for battle, and when he opened them, there was no mistaking his trademark expression – the one that communicated to the world that Zuko will get this right or die trying.

And then he… moved. First his hips bucked to the side, then his chest slowly started doing that undulating thing it sometimes did during sex, which, combined with the circular movement of his hips, was… distracting to the extreme. He was still obviously a little nervous, just a tad self-conscious – the movements were not quite fluid and natural, betraying him – but damn, he was trying hard. And getting bolder and bolder in time with the music, his hands going up to fork through his hair and run down his body, his head flying back and exposing the elegant curve of his pale throat, and _fuck, he was going to do a striptease act through a webcam_.

"_I want your love_

_I want your disease_

_I want you open mouthed and on your knees_

_I want your love…_"

Jee was dimly aware of the fact that his mouth was hanging open, but couldn't muster enough brain activity that wasn't focused on Zuko to actually do anything about it.

"_I want your drama_

_The touch of your hand_

_I want you leather-choked_

_And cuffed to my hand_

_I want your love…"_

The music droned on, turning the well-known dance tune into a slow melody sticky with sex, and Zuko's dance continued; he was now running his fingers over the hem of his shirt, pulling it up inch by agonizing inch as he moved his chest in a mesmerizing motion – not exactly graceful, but determined to appear so, which was just so endearingly _Zuko_.

"You've been practicing," Jee found himself saying, the astonishment at this discovery seeping into his voice.

"Shut up and stop distracting me."

Jee really would have laughed, then, if not for his promise and the wave of lust steadily building within him. It was _true_. Zuko had been obviously preparing himself for this. His movements bore the slightly stiff quality of being previously rehearsed to a rigorous degree and it was clear he got not flustered by Jee's interruption, his face now adorably tinted with color but still unwaveringly determined to see this through. The mental image of him dancing to this song in front of a mirror to impress Jee, over and over again, filled the man with a new rush of warmth, not all of it pure sexual desire.

He should really look into the kind of movies Zuko had been watching.

Not that him stripping for Jee was anything new – they had been sleeping with each other for almost a year now and had already tried most of the typical bedroom activities, including lap dances (which was a memory Jee revisited often and with a particular fondness). Zuko was all for novelty and bedroom experiments many people would readily consider weird – it was one of the things that helped Jee put up with him on a daily basis.

That and his undeniable creativity in certain very specialized areas. He could act like an entitled, spoiled prick, throw temper tantrums more often than a typical five-year-old and do things that would puzzle the most laid-back of eccentrics, but then came moments like this one when Jee remembered exactly why he was living with this fiend to begin with.

It was all worth it. All of it.

And now Zuko was pulling the shirt up over his head, revealing the stunning body Jee knew so well and would probably never tire of, all to the languid beat of the moaning electric guitars and the sensual crescendo of the chorus. His hips moved with the drums and his hair flew all over the place, ruffled by the shirt, as he smirked into the camera and started toying with the zipper of his jeans.

Jee send a surreptitious glance at the clock in the corner of the screen. Ten minutes before lunch break ended. Piandao could be back any minute and he had a key of his own…

Please let no one come into the office now, please please _please_.

"Do you like that?" Asked Zuko loudly enough to be heard over Skype, but still managing to keep his voice seductively low.

Jee nodded and licked his lips to get some moisture back into his throat. "Yes," he grunted out. "Go on."

Zuko must have heard something in Jee's voice that he liked; he climbed onto the bed on his knees, reaching out to adjust the laptop screen so that it showed him at an angle that was very nearly reminiscent of the cowgirl position. Smirking, getting visibly more relaxed and self-assured by Jee's response, he used the beat of the music to roam all over his naked chest, stopping to play with his own nipples, reaching lower, under the zipper, into the expanse of dark, pubic hair.

The jeans made it painfully obvious how much he was turned on by his own show – the bulge in his pants was a mesmerizing sight in and of itself. Jee licked his lips as Zuko started to undo the zipper and slide the heavy fabric down his thighs to his knees, every move emphasized by the music. Then, still kneeling, he started touching himself through his underpants.

If anyone chose to barge into the office at this moment, Jee would be in a shitload of trouble, but he wouldn't be able to tear his eyes away from the screen at this point even if it was Pakku himself. To miss even the tiniest second of what was happening in front of him was beyond comprehension, and the sounds Zuko was making into Jee's headphones were not helping matters. The man reached out to ease his own erection a bit through his pants almost absent-mindedly, without even thinking about it, still too intent on the show before him.

It wasn't often that he felt the need to send a thanksgiving prayer to anyone, but he was doing so now, to any higher power that could be bothered to listen.

Things only got more interesting from that moment on; there was an awkward moment when Zuko had to lie on his back to take his pants and underwear off – he didn't quite manage to keep this part timed with the music and seductive – but he was back on his knees in front of the camera in no time, gloriously naked and obviously meaning business. As Jee watched him reach out for the bottle of lube from their nightstand, coat his fingers with it and start preparing himself, gazing straight into the camera with his lips slightly parted as if in invitation, he wanted nothing more but to run to the car, drive all the way to his apartment, breaking every possible speed limit, and fuck this incredible creature for the rest of the day, his classes be damned.

"I'm going to stay like that," he heard Zuko's husky voice in the headphones, "and wait for you. I'm not going to come until you're here. So you'd better hurry up, Lieutenant."

And with that, the connection ended.

Jee blinked a couple of times to make sure, but the beautiful, beautiful image was gone – all he could see was the standard Skype default screen.

Um.

He could fake flu symptoms and cancel the rest of his classes for the day. No one wanted to expose the kiddies to the nasty virus. Yes, he would go to Pakku's office and fake-cough all over the place…

"Anyone there?" There was a knocking at the door – a familiar feminine silhouette stood in front of the office, visible through the blinds. "It's Ming. I got you some coffee."

Damn.

Closing the Skype window, getting rid of the headset and shoving it back into the bag and readjusting his gloriously loose track suit pants to hide embarrassing evidence was a matter of seconds, after which he let Ming in, thanking her for the coffee and explaining he had a nasty headache, hence his sitting in the dark. His frantic plans of calling in sick were as good as thwarted.

Maybe it was a good thing, though. If Zuko was really planning to hold out for all the hours it took Jee to finish working, it might teach him some valuable life lessons.

_I'm going to make you pay for teasing me like that_, he texted Zuko on the way to his fourth period class, his head still full of the show this unbelievable kid chose to bless him with.

The response was immediate.

_Hurry up about it_.

* * *

**A/N 2**: *peeks out from her bunker* The song Zuko chose to do his little show to is "Bad Romance" covered by 30 Seconds to Mars. Go listen. *crawls back into the bunker*


	3. Promises at midnight

The new chapter of Substitute won't be up for another month at least, for which I apologize, but here's a little something to bridge the gap between chapters 13 and 14. With an extra sprinkling of shirtless Zuko.

For a prompt Tyblistaire left on Princebender a while back - I hope you don't mind that it was me filling it.

Enjoy.

* * *

The snores coming in from the bedroom next to his were comforting. They meant that Uncle was fast asleep and would not overhear a word through the wooden walls smelling vaguely of forest and firewood and bearing many crude, though undeniably enthusiastic, drawings of a thousand visitors who had slept in the very room Zuko was now occupying, half-sitting with his back against the headboard, his lower body under the covers, and waiting impatiently for the buzzing in his phone to give way to a familiar, smoky voice.

And when it did, the dark bedroom suddenly seemed a tiny bit brighter. Which was an odd sentiment to have about Mai who was a lot of things, but not _bright_ – no, definitely not bright. She would probably pin him to a wall and nearly-slit his throat for even thinking like that. But there it was.

"It better be good," she said in lieu of a hello. "You don't want to know what I had to do to get some privacy. It may have involved knives."

Zuko couldn't help it and allowed his lips to go up just a crack.

"Hello, Mai," he said, drawing his bent knees closer under the heavy quilt. "Good to hear you."

There was a sigh on the other end. The sigh was as old a friend as Mai herself was and Zuko greeted it by smiling wider.

"Anything interesting going on?" Zuko went on, his fingers tugging absently at the soft material of the quilt. It smelled of starch and chemical freshness as only hotel bedding could.

Strange, how used he had gotten to that smell over the years.

"Zuko, I sincerely doubt you decided to call me late at night just to ask about my well-being," Mai pointed out in her usual monotone, though there was a subtle note of amusement buried somewhere deep beneath it. "Even you can't be that much of a dork. I am now giving you my permission to be interesting. Feel free to use it. Starting now."

This had Zuko pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing inwardly. So she wanted blunt. Of course she did. He should have known better.

"Do you remember that guy I told you about?" he asked in a tight voice, forcing himself not to abort the call right there. But he needed to talk about this, he needed to tell _someone_ or he would implode, and Mai was his only option. "The new gym te –"

"Believe me, Zuko, I wasn't _able_ to rinse _that_ conversation out of my mind. Though, mark my words, I _tried_. What about him? And I realize I might not like the answer."

"We kissed." Zuko shut his eyes against the shudder and the onslaught of heat that stormed his body with their combined force at the words and the memory. "Again. And I think he won't balk out this time."

There was a spell of silence, during which Zuko busied himself with counting the snores from the adjacent bedroom. It was better than listening to his own heart hammer against his ribcage.

"Well, what do you expect me to say now?" Mai intoned after a few beats. "Congratulations to the happy couple? I hope you stay together forever and ride out into the sunset in a golden carriage drawn by horses wearing plumage and shit?"

Zuko snorted into the phone, then quickly covered his mouth with his hand. Thankfully, the snoring continued undisturbed, as monumentally deep and rumbling as ever.

"I just felt like telling you," he whispered. "Ask what you think."

Another sigh. This time he was treated to a longer one.

"And there we have it," Mai said quietly. "The crux of your biggest problems. Why should you care what _I_ think? It's _your_ life. Not mine, not your dad's, not your uncle's, yours. You shouldn't care about anyone else's opinions but your own.

"Having said that," she picked up again in louder – and slightly lighter, though that may have been Zuko's imagination – tones after the beat of silence following her last words had stretched out uncomfortably and dropped heavily down on him, "I am probably the best person around to ask for advice. You really want some? Then listen up."

"Yeah?" Zuko mumbled into the cell phone, drawing in on himself further.

"Use condoms."

It almost made him sputter. Almost.

"You're hilarious," he hissed.

"What? You could get HIV if you start fucking. And you are. So use protection. I don't want to visit your sorry ass in hospital until you die of AIDS. That's gross. Oh, and take pictures."

"Pictures. Of what? Me in hospital?"

"No, of that big strong man of yours. I want to see what the big fuss is about."

"You want me to send you pictures of Jee?"

"Sure. Shirtless, if you please. I deserve something nice for listening to you whine about him all the time."

Zuko ran a frustrated hand through his hair and tugged at it a little. Honestly, he knew that conversations with Mai tended to go in weird direction, but _this_…!

"You want pictures of Jee shirtless," he repeated in a tired voice.

"Shouldn't be too hard now that you two are eating face," Mai pointed out logically.

At this point Zuko had no idea whether he wanted to laugh or hang up. He settled on swinging his legs off the bed and standing by the window in his pajama bottoms, looking out at the silent mountain peaks. The snow made them look purple in the bright moonlight.

"I have no idea what will happen when I come back," he whispered, touching the frosted glass.

"Yes you do. You're just being a drama queen as usual."

The window pane reflected the deep frown which Zuko wasn't even conscious of forming.

"Maybe," he admitted reluctantly after a beat. "Still, I – I don't know. When I get back it's going to be – weird."

"Not unless you make it weird. Did you contact him at all after you made out?"

Zuko rested his forehead against the window pane. It was freezing, but the temperature shock did wonders to take the edge off the embarrassment.

"I sent him a couple of pictures," he mumbled. He contemplated sending texts, too, but always chickened out before pressing send. He never knew quite what to say and everything he came up with sounded wrong.

"Nude selfies?" Now the amusement was no longer buried deep in Mai's voice, it was rising up like a zombie in a B-class horror flick.

"What? No!" In truth, he _had_ considered it, in the early hours of morning, his hand on himself and biting back the groans against the pillow. Every time he had dismissed the idea, just like the texts. After all, it was just a kiss and, well. There was no telling how Jee would respond. "Just, you know. Snow. People skiing. The mountains. Stuff."

"Oh wow. That would get his blood racing for sure." He could practically see Mai's face when she said it and the vision of her deadpan almost made him snicker against the pane. "What, are you saving yourself for the wedding?"

"Very funny." Now it was his turn to sigh. "I just – I don't –"

"Whatever. Look, Zuko, just… Don't get caught. Do whatever you want, but be careful. No one is going to like it."

"Yeah, I figured." Zuko closed his eyes.

There was a pause, and then Mai asked quietly:

"You want him to fuck you?"

Oh man, did he ever… "Yes," he said after taking a deep breath. And – strange, it was strange, how much better he felt once the word left his mouth and dissolved into steam on the window pane.

He may be confused about a lot of things, but that – he _was_ sure about that.

"Then let him know. Show him. Set the stage for what _you_ want to happen when you get back. Pictures of the mountains are not going to do that, genius."

"You really think I should?"

"Yeah. But hey, what do I know. You're the experienced one out of the two of us. And that's just sad."

"No luck on your end, then?" Zuko brought his arm up and rested his forehead against the crook of his bent elbow, looking out into the night.

There was a quiet, derisive snicker, deep and throaty just as it was brief, and God, he loved Mai's voice, he really did. "Oh, you know me. My knives get very jealous. And Azula can be incredibly possessive."

"Of course she can." Damn, there it was again, the cold tightness in his chest at the very mention of his sister's name. He did not want to think about her now. Or ever.

"So, anything else you want to bore me with? Or are you done moping for the night?"

"I think I'm good. Thanks, Mai."

"Pictures. Remember. And I want graphic details when you do start fucking. Though I'm still a bit grossed out at your taste, you know."

"It's hard to explain. He's just – it's – I don't know. It's fucked up."

"I gathered as much from our last conversation." Another sigh, this time signaling the impending end of the call. "Now piss off. And pictures or it didn't happen."

"Don't hold your breath," was all Zuko managed to say in response before the silence on the other end bled into the buzzing once again.

… Well then.

Zuko stood leaning against the frosted window pane for a few more minutes, thinking, before he threw himself back onto the bed and gazed up at the phone he held up high above his face.

Set the stage for what he wanted to happen, huh…?

Just the taking the picture wouldn't hurt. He would only see how stupid it looked. Nobody said he would actually send it if he did take it and he was shirtless anyway…

So he switched the light on briefly and took it. And it – well.

It didn't look all that stupid.

It was his face, Zuko realized as he stared at the picture. It was – blank. Or almost blank. Because there was something in his eyes that surprised him, something he never saw before when he looked into a mirror.

Maybe it, the Look, was only there when he was thinking of Jee – he didn't know. But it looked – like he needed it to look.

Like an invitation.

Like a promise.

Of course, his face looked ugly – it always did, there was nothing he could do to make it _not_ ugly. Not after what Father had done. And if he looked at it too closely, he would start questioning the whole thing again, would start wondering what Jee even saw in him, why he agreed, and it wasn't what he wanted to consider, so he tried to avoid looking at the scar altogether. And apart from that, the picture was – all right. It seemed all right. There was his face with that strange look, and one arm under his head, and the upper half of his chest, and maybe…

Maybe Jee would actually like it.

And then it happened, one of those stupid impulses that made him do insane things before he had the chance to think them through, and he selected Jee's number and pressed send so quickly that it probably looked as though he'd been possessed.

The phone landed on the table beside the bed with a furious bang that sounded way too loud in the quiet of the bedroom, but he didn't care. As soon as the picture went on its way, he dove under the covers, searched for his iPod and turned to the wall, turning the volume up and pretending before himself that he would _not_ reach out for the phone to check for incoming messages every few seconds.

He wouldn't. He was _not_ that desperate.

Except he was, and when the cell buzzed with a new message one song later he all but threw the iPod to the floor in his hurry to grab it.

It was a strange game they had going – for every picture Zuko had sent, Jee had answered with another one, random stuff like a beer can on the table or a street in Summerfield, whatever it was that he was apparently doing…

This time it was the same. Only when Zuko opened the picture, it was –

He gulped, feeling a familiar rush of heat splitting to go both up to his face and down to his groin at the same time.

It was the picture of Jee's bed.


End file.
